Twenty Eight

The night was quiet—too quiet. Arthur and I had just finished dinner, the kind of dinner where we barely spoke, just enjoyed the silence, each other’s company. I could tell he was tense, though. Ever since Vladimir had started acting up, Arthur had been on edge. I was too, but I tried not to show it. I didn’t want to add to his stress.

“Let’s go for a walk,” Arthur suggested after we cleared the dishes.

I nodded. The garden was always a good place to clear our heads, to forget, even if just for a moment, about all the chaos Vladimir was causing. We stepped out into the cool night, the stars twinkling above us, and the scent of flowers filling the air. But as we walked, something didn’t feel right. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up.

“I feel like we’re being watched,” I whispered, my hand tightening around Arthur’s.

Arthur’s eyes scanned the shadows. “Stay close to me,” he murmured, his voice steady, but I could hear the undercurrent of worry.

We continued walking, but the feeli